


Make it a good one

by noero



Series: KL PWP Collection [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 08:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14160603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noero/pseuds/noero
Summary: Lance thinks of Keith in the shower.





	Make it a good one

Near-death experiences turn Keith on. 

Perhaps the phenomenon is not the imminent threat of death exactly, so much as it is the thrill of winning a fight by a slim but sufficient margin. That rush is fire in his veins, burning all through him. 

How Lance comes upon this knowledge is purely incidental. There is a deep, warm, strip of energy lost in the current of Keith’s awareness when they form Voltron and it’s only when Keith has taken control of the Black Lion that Lance feels the burn of it hard enough to recognize what it is. Keith’s distinctive push is strongest between Black and Red and Lance suddenly knows. There, mingling with Lance’s own energy somewhere between his navel and legs, that quiet white-hot tilt of energy Keith emits is _arousal_.

The others don’t seem to notice, out of some good fortune, or maybe they’re simply not inclined to explore that part of Keith’s energy as Lance, who tries his hardest to be a good Right Hand. Lance also tries his best to ignore the uncomfortable truth but he returns from their missions restless, taut, and frustratingly unsatisfied. He locks himself in his bathroom and turns on the shower, intending to wash away the remnants of his exasperation. Stupid Keith and his stupid kinks, Lance thinks.

But with the steady deluge of hot water trailing over his shoulders, down his back, and along his inner thighs, Lance touches himself. 

What else is he supposed to do? Hands sure, Lance doesn’t hesitate long enough to justify himself. He starts off slow, the pads of his fingers just grazing his hardening cock down the shaft and back up. He presses against the base of his length and he tightens his palm, exhaling deep and slow. 

Lance has fantasized about men before, namely Shiro, but that was long ago and under the duress of teenage hormones and the careful restrictions of military school. Lance was a careless cadet then — stupidly curious — and more than a little presumptuous. Imagining Shiro’s body beneath his inexperienced hands was little different that getting off to an old Playboy spread, he reasoned. Shiro wasn’t quite real then. 

Upon their meeting and understanding Shiro as part of his shared social circle, however, Lance deemed it inappropriate to think of Shiro beyond the blameless freedom of his dreams.

He also recalls with a bit of fondness, how he’d walked in on Allura changing out of her flight suit. He remembers, with vivid clarity, how for the briefest moment he’d seen her bare breasts before fleeing the room in embarrassment. He’d apologized profusely after the fact, of course, but it wasn’t like he could simply unsee them. Especially since they were as perfect as he’d hoped. Still, he’d politely kept her body out of his fantasies at least until the moments when he was already halfway to orgasm and his mind gave up on pretense. That isn’t the point though, Lance sincerely tries to be a gentleman.

With those thoughts swirling in his mind, he supposes it’s a bit unfair that he unabashedly thinks of Keith now. 

“Don’t make it weird,” Lance mumbles to himself, very much in vain. He’s far past any semblance of shame.

The memory of Keith’s low murmur is steady in his mind, taunting him, pushing him, throwing him. This is all Keith’s fault, after all, his own red-hot ache cutting through Lance with enough power to get him all hard up too time after time. It makes Lance go a little bit crazy, knowing Keith is horny while they fly. The smooth staccato of his commands are like a hand on Lance’s groin.

Now the familiar ring of Keith’s voice through the comms — worn, tired, hard, and breathless — curls around Lance even tighter. He imagines praise and words whispered against him everywhere the water touches, Keith’s mouth just as hot and wet against the shell of his ear. Teeth graze the sensitive skin. For a second, he thinks of doing this in the cockpit, Keith’s presence still wild and aware in the back of his mind. His heart rate climbs and the flick of wrist quickens. 

_Lance_. He likes his name, wrapped in Keith’s voice. The sound ignites something deep in his belly.

A desperate burst of sound escapes his mouth, unbidden though stifled, his head falling forward until he’s pressed against the shower wall. His free hand drags down, digging into the grooves of muscle on his stomach before dipping low again, past his hips and around his thighs, to fondle his balls. 

Keith might be doing the exact same thing, just across the hall, needing this as desperately as Lance. Keith might be teasing himself, moaning with his mouth open and hair a mess. Keith might be an exhibitionist, purposely loud during sex just in hopes he might be heard, and the thought makes Lance’s cock jerk rudely in his hand. 

Keith might feel the echo of Lance’s arousal back at him in the mind link and the thought embarrasses Lance less and less the closer he gets. Maybe if he listened close enough, he could still feel the vestige of his excitement through the castle walls. 

Lance imagines Keith’s hands, about the same size as his own, reaching between his legs under cover in his own bunk. He’s panting, writing, back arching, and Lance places himself between Keith’s knees. The heels of his palms dig into the meat of Keith’s legs, pushing him further apart until he’s gasping. Lance can’t lose the element of surprise here, Keith is definitely into that. He must like it rough and fast.

The pace of his hand becomes more frantic, desperate, and Lance considers how Keith might taste. He’d mouth over the curve of his length, soft at first, tongue sliding beneath and then over the crown. He’d trace each turn of sensitive skin until Keith was shivering, tremors of pleasure turning him pliant, and then he’d swallow him, suck at him hard.

Lance bites his lip, his thumb brushing over the head of his own cock.

_Come on, Lance_ , Keith’s voice again in a distorted memory from mid mission and Lance cants his hips, seeking more friction.  
Good. _Yes_. Keith is with him now, beneath the spray of water, cock pressed tight against Lance’s hip. His calloused fingers run up and down Lance’s side and blunt nails dig into his skin. Keith smiles against this throat, a low rumble falling from his lips. _Like that, Lance._

Lance’s eyes fall open, forehead still pressed against the tile, and he watches himself come. Quiet minutes pass as he catches his beneath the patter of water, frowning as the evidence slowly washes off the wall. He groans, far less frustrated than before, but properly embarrassed for once. He’ll barely be able to look Keith in the eye.

And even deeper below his shame, he’s unsettled to realize how alone he feels. The absence of another body's warmth more palpable than Lance ever remembers it being.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://lionpilots.tumblr.com).


End file.
